


Drunk Angels

by merykey



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, first snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 04:54:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3277502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merykey/pseuds/merykey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy finds Clarke making snow angels in the middle of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunk Angels

**Author's Note:**

> After the last couple of episodes and the storm that's ahead of us, I wanted some fluff to heal my poor shipper heart.  
> I used a mix I set up from Bellamy's point of view as inspiration. In a way, this one shot was inspired by Chrstina Perri's "Arms".  
> If you're interested, here's the mix: http://8tracks.com/merykey/i-m-already-falling
> 
> It's been a while since I've written anything, so any constructive criticism is more than welcomed.

 

_"I hope that you see right through my walls."_

_Christina Perri - Arms_

* * *

 

Bellamy stepped outside for a moment, needing to catch a breath. The celebrations at Camp Jaha were at its peak, with people, from both the Sky and the Woods Clans, eating a magnificent feast, dancing to old songs from the Ark, sharing the Sky people’s moonshine and the grounders’ many different wines, and yelling. There was a lot of yelling and laughter and it was hot. They were in the middle of winter, with temperatures close to 0° and he was asphyxiating in there, clearly a combination between sticking almost 400 people in a very confined space and the alcohol.

His breath left a cloudy mist behind him as he zipped his jacket while walking away from the mess hall they’d built during the spring. It took him a few seconds to realize that all the surfaces were covered in snow. It was still falling from the sky and he turned to call the rest, since it was their first snow of the year but he stopped himself short. They hadn’t really been able to enjoy winter last year; between the outcome of the Mount Weather take down and the fact they were starving, while still trying to convince the Woods Clan to maintain their peace treaty, they hadn’t had a lot of time to contemplate the snow. Bellamy wanted to enjoy this one by himself for just a little while. He angled his head up and opened his mouth to taste the snowflakes falling.

He couldn’t contain his smile as he saw a few of the guards, who’d volunteered to cover the night shift during the celebrations, throwing snowballs at each other.

Bellamy shook his head with a grin on his face as he walked away from the celebrations and into the dark fields of the Camp, his feet crunching against the snow. There were a few campfires, as they usually kept throughout the night, although tonight no one was there to benefit from its heat or light. He walked slowly, remembering why they were celebrating tonight.

Despite the winter, they’d decided to combine several important dates into only one and throw one big feast, something they wouldn’t be able to throw for the entire season. So they were celebrating their one year on Earth and their one year of peace between the clans. They were also celebrating a year since they had infiltrated Mount Weather and successfully liberated his and Lincoln’s people, although the plan hadn’t gone smoothly. Bellamy had been captured and after a lengthy torture session where they had asked him about the camp, the grounders, their alliance and more specifically about Clarke and Lexa, when he didn’t give them anything, the Mountain men had decided to tag him for harvest. Luckily, with Monty’s help, they’d made it out of their cages and liberated the Grounders’ army held in for harvest; once they’d taken down Mount Weather’s security system, the Sky people and the grounders had stepped in and swept the whole place.

He’d been captured for 4 days when Clarke showed up to their rescue. They’d lost people in the process and once they stormed out of the complex, they didn’t look back, even knowing that in their way in, they’d probably done a lot of damage to their containment system. He knew not all people within Mount Weather were evil blood suckers, just like the Sky people weren’t all murderers because one of them had gone off the rails, but after everything they’d done to him (he touched his left side where the pink skin of a scar that went from his hip to his 8th rib would always stay as testament of the second war he ever survived) and to his people, he couldn’t find the strength to care.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the figure lying on the snowy ground about 10 feet away. If it hadn’t been for the movement and the giggling, he would’ve missed her completely.

Bell instinctively reached for his gun by his side but it wasn’t there, as he was off duty. He sprinted towards her, and as he kneeled in front of her, scanning her for any injuries, he noticed her goofy smile and realized she’d been the one giggling.

“Clarke?”

Her eyes went wide, as wide as her smile. “Bellamy!”

“What are you doing?” he asked, tilting his head curiously.

She couldn’t help smiling at his confused face. “What does it look like I’m doing?” she replies, moving her arms up and down on her side. “I’m making snow angels.”

Bellamy smiled at her, though he tried to restrain it. “How much wine did you have?” he asked teasingly.

She sighed. “You’re ruining the moment,” Clarke slurred as she frowned at him.

He rolled his eyes and extended his hand to her as he stood. “Come on, it’s freezing.”

“Since when are you the responsible one?” she complained, not taking his hand.

He held back a laugh. “Since you’re lying on the snow making angels,” he answered matter-of-factly. Bellamy saw her roll her eyes and sigh, frustrated. She stretched out her hand to grab his, but instead of pulling her up, he was pulled down, and he grunted as he collided face first against the ground.

She giggled as she let go of his hand. Bellamy turned around, his back against the snow, and let out a tired sigh.

“Come on, Bell, enjoy the moment,” she whispered; the humor on her voice gone for a moment to plead with him.

He turned his head towards Clarke and stared at her profile for a moment; she rarely called him 'Bell'. Her blonde hair was spread out around her head like a halo, and her eyes remained closed as the tiny snowflakes fell delicately on her face, the faint light of one of the spotlights giving her an ethereal glow. It wasn’t the first time Bellamy couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Without meaning to, they started breathing in sync.

Clarke opened her eyes and turned her head towards him, making him look up towards the sky. He didn’t see her smile.

“It’s cold,” he whispered, his own eyes closed now. “Why aren’t you at the feast?”

She didn’t answer immediately. “I was full,” she joked, getting a tiny laugh out of him.

“I don’t think the Woods people will take it well that our leader and gracious host left the celebrations to make snow angels by herself,” he joked back.

He heard her move against the snow and suddenly, he felt her cold, wet fingers brushing his dark curls away from his face, his eyes opening immediately from the surprise. Bell turned his face towards her and caught her just as she turned her head back up to the sky. She'd never done that before.

After their return from Mount Weather neither of them had touched the subject of 'it's worth the risk', but he'd made sure to keep a little bit of distance from her and keep their relationship strictly professional, which wasn't easy for him. Without his permission, his heart had fallen deep for Clarke Griffin and no matter how much he tried, he couldn't get rid of the imprint she'd left there. He recognized she felt guilty over what had happened because for the first few weeks, she'd also kept her distance from him, but she'd soon returned back to his side and they were back to facing the daily challenges of the Camp together. 

“It was a little…” she whispered, the joyfulness in her voice gone. “A little too overwhelming. People wanted to talk to me, dance with me, drink with me.” She sighed.

“You’re our leader. They want to get to know you,” he told her softly. Bell saw her smile a little, though he could see the sadness behind it.

“Lexa… she said it’s tradition to secure alliances by marriage.” It took him a moment to understand what she meant; he felt his chest compress at the thought, their breathing falling out of sync, and he had to look away. He was afraid of what she may say next. “She’s been introducing suitors all night long for me to choose from.”

“Oh,” Bellamy let out, after taking a deep breath. “How very monarchic of her,” he tried to joke, but by the frown he saw in her from the corner of his eye, she hadn’t understood it. “A long time ago, during monarchies, rival countries would arrange marriages for political reasons.” She remained silent. “It was a stupid joke,” he finished, feeling embarrassed at his lame attempt to light up the mood. “Have you made a decision?” He didn’t want to know the answer, although he already knew she would go through it somehow. Their alliance was too important to her and everyone else at Camp Jaha to jeopardize it. And Clarke was the type of leader who’d give everything she had, if that meant her people would survive.

“Why do you think I’m out here, making snow angels?” she replied with a bittersweet tone. She was stalling.

They remained silent for a while, the rhythm of her breathing acting as a lullaby for him, despite the cold sweeping all over his body. He felt her move again, by his side, and he felt her cold fingers against his cheek, and then her cold lips against his. Bellamy’s eyes snapped open, and he remained frozen beneath her kiss. Her eyes were closed, and she was frowning.

Bellamy pulled back, as much as he could, which didn’t put much distance between them. Her breath smelled of strawberry wine.

“I think,” he breathed, his hand holding gently the wrist of the hand on his cheek, “you’re a little drunk, Clarke.”

Her eyes opened and they stared at each other for a few seconds. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her blue eyes from this close. And she looked disappointed. Clarke let go of his cheek and rested against the snow again, her shoulder bumping against his.

“I’m not that drunk,” she argued, tensing beside him. The awkwardness between them increased by the moment. He wasn’t sure what to say. It was obvious he’d embarrassed her by not kissing her back and by implying she was making stupid decisions because of her drunken state. But what was he supposed to believe? That she really wanted to kiss him? That it had nothing to do with all the wine she’d drunk or the fact that she would most likely be forced to marry someone she didn’t know at age 18? He'd worked hard to put these walls up between them so the lines of their relationship wouldn't get confused. It didn't really surprised him that all it took was a kiss from Clarke to take down a year-long work, like a goddamn wrecking ball.

Bellamy stood up from the snow, and offered her his hand again. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your quarters.” Clarke didn’t accept his hand; she pulled herself up, and walked by his side in silence.

As they approached her door, he struggled with his thoughts, no idea what to say to her to alleviate the tension between them. There were a lot of things he wanted to say. _I love you_ , was one of them; the most important. _I’ll be whatever you need me to be_ , was another. But he still felt, even a year later, that whatever he could offer her, it would be unrequited.

She opened her door and stepped inside quickly. “Clarke, wait!” escaped his lips before he had any idea what he would say. She stood by her door, her hand lingering in the doorknob, and her eyes trained on him, expectantly.

When he didn’t say anything, Clarke hesitated for a moment, thinking closing her door would put them both out of their misery. But the alcohol in her system gave her the courage she’s been waiting for to say what needed to be said.

The blonde woman stepped outside her doorway and stood in front of Bellamy, with her mind set and her war face on. She took a breath and let it all out.

“I’m not too drunk to regret the kiss in the morning. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, but there’s always something in the way. And there were times I thought you’d be the brave one and kiss me, but you never did, so I started thinking maybe I got it wrong, maybe I’d been imagining the way you look at me sometimes, when you think I’m not looking.” Bellamy’s face blushed in front of her and his eyes darted away from her, in embarrassment. Was he that obvious? “But what you don’t realize is that I’m always looking at you. And I can’t stop it. And I…” her voice breaking a little. “I don’t want to lose you. If… this is not how you feel, if I’m wrong… just tell me. I promise it won’t be awkward.” She moved a little closer to him then, and looked at him with those damn big blue eyes. “Just, please tell me,” Clarke whispered.

Oh, god, he loved her. He felt like he’d explode if he even moved an inch, or spoke a word, but he suddenly rested his forehead against hers, with his eyes closed. He touched her hands gently, and whispered: “I love you so goddamn much. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met, and I can’t help loving the fuck out of you. I want you so badly it physically hurts sometimes. And I never thought you’d ever had me any other way other than as your first general, your friend or you ally.” Bellamy felt her arms snake around his neck, diving one of her hands into his dark curls, and opened his brown eyes to find her blue ones staring back at him, with the biggest smile he’d ever seen on her face. “I love you so fucking much, Clarke.”

And he exploded. One of his arms hugged her tightly by the waist, his body molding perfectly against hers, while his other hand rested on the back of her head, providing the necessary support for him to kiss her like he’d been dying to do for months. He kissed her firmly first, but once his tongue sought entrance, it went all downhill from there. Their breathing was labored and he moaned into her mouth as she pressed herself even more against him, and at the feel of his erection pushing against his pants, she let out a moan of her own. Clarke pushed them into her room quickly, kicking the door shut. They spent hours making up for lost time.

In the darkness of the room, as they laid on their sides, Bellamy and Clarke faced each other, the only light source coming from the corridor’s light entering beneath her door; their naked legs tangled, his hand traveling slowly all the way down her spine, and then back up, while her hand rested on his cheek, as she told him about the men Lexa had introduced her that night, both laughing at the awkward situations.

They kissed softly, between giggles and confessions, and when the softness turned into lust, they explored their bodies until the sun rose.

They’d just fallen asleep, Bellamy’s arms around her while she rested her head on his shoulder, when a knock on her door woke her from her slumber. Clarke groaned and tried to hide her face further into his body, when whoever was behind the door knocked again. Bellamy stirred, tightening his grip around her.

“What?” she asked whoever was knocking. She kissed Bellamy’s neck, proud of the low moan that escaped his lips. The moment didn’t last for long, as her mother’s voice called her name.

“Clarke. The People of the Woods are preparing to leave and Lexa would like to speak to you before they do.”

“Crap,” Clarke whispered under her breath. “Tell them I’ll be there in a moment,” she told her mother, Bellamy’s lips now on her neck, travelling slowly south, making the communication difficult.

“Are you feeling well? I didn’t see you leave the celebrations,” Abby asked, her concern noticeable in her voice.

“Yeah, mom, I’m fine. I’m just… I’m here with Bellamy, so…” Clarke informed her mother casually. Bellamy’s eyes went wide as he detached his lips from her body to look her in the eyes. _What the hell_ , he mouthed at her. “We’ll be just a minute!”

Her mother didn’t reply right away, earning a laugh her Clarke, which she contained against Bellamy’s bare chest.

“Are you still drunk?” he whispered in her ear, so Abby wouldn’t listen.

But before she could answer, Abby replied: “Oh. Uhm… very well.” There was a pause, and then she finished. “Lexa’ll be waiting in the mess hall.” They heard Abby’s footsteps walking away, and Clarke was able to laugh out loud.

Bellamy sat on the bed, a mixture between horror and amusement in his face. “Am I some sort of revenge against your mother?” he teased her, although he was a bit afraid he may not be too far off the truth.

“Of course, I just figured I’d pick the last guy my mum would ever want me to be with, and then fuck his brains out all night long.”

He was silent for a moment.

“Oh, my god, Bellamy!” she said laughing, as she sat next to him in the bed and put his face between her hands. “I was joking!”

“No, I know!” he replied in his defense.

She bit her lip as she eyed his expression, apparently able to interpret what he was trying to hide. She placed a kiss on his lips, and then his cheek, and then nose, and so on.

“I just figured we could tell her now, and have a funny story to tell, or we could tell her later, while I blow Lexa off,” she told in between kisses.

“You’re not going to accept the proposal?” he asked, surprised at himself for thinking she would ever do after their night together. Somewhere deep inside him, he figured perhaps this was a one/last time encountered, to say good bye to what could have been.

“Of course not,” she replied. Clarke couldn’t help feeling insulted by his question, but it didn’t last long after he smiled at her, a big triumphant smile that made her melt into a puddle.

He kissed her deeply, his ravaging hers as his hands explored her body, and knowing this was a gateway for more comprehensive activities, she pulled away from him, with one last chaste kiss, and got dressed to meet with Lexa.

Fin.-


End file.
